Touched by Fire

by Kathleen O'Reilly

  He could imagine her in his arms, in his bed, her body locked beneath his. He took a step toward her. The dragons were no help at all. “No!”

  “Ah, now I’m beginning to see. You respect me too much to take me as your mistress, but not enough to take me as anything more.”

  “Sarah, I would hurt you.” He should leave, yet while she stared at him with such desire, he was mesmerized.

  “Isn’t it worth it to try? You’re a very poor actor, Lord Haverwood. You’d marry another woman looking at me the way you stare at me now, kissing me the way you did in your carriage? People will talk. People are talking already.”

  He fisted his hands tightly. “I can’t.”

  She lifted her chin and smiled with effort. “All right. Go if you must. I will see you again, though.”

  He wanted to hold her so badly it hurt. Wearily he shook his head. “You mustn’t. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me.”

  “You may be able to ignore what is between us, but I will not. I could not live with myself. You stand before me denying your fate so vehemently. Yet look at your hands. You’ve clenched them so hard, you’ve drawn blood.”

  Colin unfurled his fingers, stared at his palms, the telltale trails of scarlet betraying him. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at her. “I must go.”

  “By all means. Don’t let me stave off your retreat.”

  For only a moment he stood frozen. But when he regained his senses, he turned away from her. She skirted around him, and held open the door. He took one step backward, away from her. He must do this. He stood tall, locked his hands behind his back, the DragonSlayer once more. His voice was firm and flat. Resolute. “I won’t see you again.”

  Her face fell, just for a moment. And then she recovered quickly. “I would not wager on that, my lord. No matter how you choose to delude yourself, there is much unfinished between us. I bid you good night.”

  Colin left quickly, closing the door behind him.

  • • •

  After the earl left, the room was quiet, deathly quiet. Everywhere Sarah looked, she could see him still. She picked up a heavy vase from the table, and uncaring of the daylilies and water it contained, flung it across the room. Instead of the soothing crash she had hoped for, however, it bounced harmlessly on the carpet, the water spilling out upon the floor, and the flowers strewn about haphazardly.

  Oh, why couldn’t she hate him? Sarah wondered. Why couldn’t she curse the very path that he trod, the very chair that he favored with his presence? Why, indeed. Wasn’t it easier to deny her own breath than to deny her feelings for him?

  Yet he seemed so afraid. She would continue her fight, because she knew no other way. She had not been taught how to concede, only how to win. But where there once was confidence, she now felt doubt, an ugly specter that turned the night black and the clouds dark with gloom.

  For the first time since her father’s death, she knew what it was to need so badly, and yet have the one card she required just beyond her grasp. She could not cheat, or pull a trump from her sleeve with the earl. If she could, she would have won long ago. But this was not a game for her anymore. She had so much more to lose than a stack of bloody counters. He had shown her that what she believed in could become as solid and real as his strength. That what she thought was only a dream could become her life. She would not turn back again. If he chose to fight, so be it. Please, dear God, be merciful. For if she lost, she didn’t know if she would wish to survive. Not anymore. She sank into the chair where he had sat, letting the chair’s arms embrace her, and now, all alone, she cried.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two days passed before Sarah discovered the full extent of the earl’s stubborn nature. Catherine Lambert came to call early in the morning, the unfashionable hour a harbinger of what could only be unsettling news. Iris guided the young visitor to the morning room and stood, waiting expectantly until Sarah ordered her out.

  “Miss Banks! You must do something.” Catherine was attired simply, her lack of frills a testament to her obvious distress.

  Sarah pasted a smile upon her face and gestured for Catherine to be seated before seating herself. Only one thing could cause such misery in the child. “About what?”

  Catherine sank into a chair, wringing her hands. “It’s the earl. He’s come to see Papa.”

  The earl. Sarah swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “For what reason?” She asked as if she didn’t know.

  Catherine lowered her head and began to sob loudly, a great racking noise that echoed in the room. Sarah patted her hand in what she hoped to be a comforting manner. “Buck up, Catherine. Tell me why he came to see your father.”

  “Oh, Miss Banks! I won’t marry him, I won’t.”

  Her heart stopped. He had actually done it. She would have wagered everything she had that he would not have gone through with it. He’d been bluffing, surely. “Did he ask you?”

  Catherine looked up and sniffed, bleary-eyed and miserable. “He asked to pay his address.”

  Sarah began to breathe again. “May I say the world has not yet ended?”

  “No, but now it’s only a matter of time before it does.”

  Only a matter of time.Had she been wrong about him? No. She wouldn’t believe it, even now with all the evidence pointing to the contrary. “Catherine, you must calm yourself.” Why was he so determined to marry the girl? “Would it be so awful if you were to marry the earl?”

  “No.”

  Perhaps the Lambert family had some hold on him. That would explain much. “You would have many advantages if you were to marry the man.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “I’m sure your family is most pleased with the prospect of having a countess for a daughter. Were they expecting such a fine connection?” Perhaps a debt of honor that he owed the family.

  “No, they never dreamed that I would make such a match. If the rumors had never began, I would most likely be betrothed to Mr. Lawson.”

  “Oh.” She would have to think more about this, but for now, a crying girl was sitting in her morning room, one she could not in all conscience ignore. “Is all this anguish due to Mr. Lawson?”

  Catherine took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “No, it’s because of me. I don’t want to be sold to my husband. Our family is not destitute, simply not quite as comfortable as my mother would choose. Why is it that I must be sacrificed for everyone else’s happiness? The earl looks at me as if I’m nothing more than a leaf of cabbage. He shows no emotion at all. It’s as if I’m a stranger to him. Mr. Lawson may not be my one true love, but he’s a far cry from having a stranger in my bed.”

  “Catherine!” Sarah’s words were strangled, not because she was shocked, but because the vivid image of the earl—Colin—in Catherine’s bed made her stomach cramp unbearably.

  “We must do something!” Catherine’s face brightened. “I could elope!”

  “Catherine, no.” Sadly, it would be far too scandalous for the girl.

  “Then you must do something. You could elope! Just think, the earl will dash off after you, mad with jealousy, and challenge your intended to pistols at dawn! Oh, think of the scandal! And quite so romantic as well.”

  Sarah looked at Catherine in disbelief. For the first time, she realized the girl’s dreams were more fanciful than Sarah’s, and that was saying much indeed. “Catherine. No.”

  Catherine flounced in her chair. “Well, you must do something.” Her look turned sly. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Love? Perhaps Juliette was right and it was only desire, perhaps it was only fate, or perhaps it was only a need to live a life she had always wanted. Yet this cataclysm of feeling he stirred inside her was the most exquisite pain, the most exquisite pleasure. If poets and courtesans and minstrels had founded their livelihoods on such emotions, surely she was equally entitled. “Yes.”

  “Then what will you do?”

  “Catherine, it’s not quite so simple—”

&n
bsp; “Perhaps if I pretended to be dead?” She slapped her forehead. “I can’t believe I haven’t told you! It was the most awful thing! A highwayman attacked our coach last evening, and if not for the driver’s quick thinking, I’m sure the big oaf would have killed us all. It was a grand adventure! Can you imagine? A highwayman? An attack? Oh, I could almost faint from the excitement!”

  Sarah’s first thoughts were that yes, she could imagine someone attacking Catherine. Something anonymous, so no one would know. She shook her head, ashamed at her own spitefulness. But if the girl—No, she mustn’t think such evil thoughts. She smiled and patted the girl’s hand. “It’s a good thing you escaped the man’s nefarious intentions.”

  Catherine balanced her hands on her knees. “Yes, he was the most awful man. And he was so huge. And so mean. And you should have seen his fingers. All dirty, and—” She shuddered. “Well, I’m certainly glad to be alive.”

  Sarah smiled patiently. “We’re all so glad you’re safe.” Safe to marry the earl. Her stomach began to cramp once more. It simply wasn’t fair. Even highwaymen preferred Catherine to herself. Perhaps if she curled her hair?

  “He said he knew who I was. And he’d read the papers, too. He said the earl didn’t need me for a wife. Can you imagine?”

  Actually, Sarah did agree with the dirty-fingered highwayman. The earl didn’t need Catherine for a wife. He needed Sarah. What would happen if he did marry Catherine? And even now he did seem hell-bent on his path to matrimony. With Catherine. “I don’t even want to think of such an awful occurance,” she replied, quite truthfully.

  The object of Sarah’s pitiful jealousy bobbed her head, her lustrous curls bouncing. “Well, I’m sure I’ll recover. I’m not such a ninny as my mother would make me appear.”

  Sarah disagreed, but held her tongue and pasted an intent look on her face, as if she weren’t the most miserable female alive.

  “We must discover a way for the earl to fall in love with you.” Catherine drummed her fingers on the chair arm. “If I arranged another attack—a sham—then I could pretend to die and I’d run away—for a short time, of course—until you and the earl were married.”

  She smiled with more confidence than she felt. “Catherine, before you arrange your own demise, let me try once more.”

  “Oh, thank you. I knew you’d come through. What everyone says about you—they’re all wrong.”

  “Well, yes. Your defense is quite touching.”

  “There’s to be a ball on Saturday. You must be there.”

  A ball. It seemed rather fitting that their battleground would be in the ballroom of the ton. It was a place she once longed to be; now, she didn’t care in the least. It was the earl she longed for. He had shown her time and time again how determined he could be. By all rights, she should have admitted defeat. Let the cursed man marry Catherine. But when he kissed her, when he protected her from the others . . . How could she abandon that? She could not. “All right. I’ll be there. Wish me luck, Catherine; it is exceedingly likely that I will fail.”

  “Oh, la. I can think of a myriad of plots to trap the man.”

  Sarah had thought of them all. Schemes had whirled in her head, making her dizzy from the thought. Yet she, Sarah Banks, had discarded them all. She wanted to be good and honorable for him. That was what he deserved. “I’ll not cheat.”

  “But it’s not as if he doesn’t care for you, and you could do it in such a way that he’d never know. No one would ever know. You’re very good.”

  “Catherine, your faith in my sharper wiles is quite inspiring, but I won’t play false with the earl. Not this time. It’s much too important.”

  Catherine twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. “Please don’t fail me. I can’t marry him.”

  Sarah patted the girl’s hand once more; a more unlikely alliance could not be found. “Don’t worry and don’t plan your own kidnapping, or mine for that matter. This is between the earl and I. He’ll turn about. Of course he will.”

  She prayed she was telling the truth.

  It was late that afternoon when Colin rode out to visit Mr. Twizzlerot at St. George. He had received word that the children from Ackworth had all been moved to their new home, and this time he would see for himself that all was well.

  St. George was a well-kept, tidy building filled with the merry noise of playing. Everywhere he looked he saw the stamp of children. It was a far different world from the somber, sad place where he grew up. As a child, he saw dragons everywhere. And now, because of him, these children were living a much happier life. At least for them, there were no more dragons.

  For a moment he stood at the door, letting the sun warm his back, and the unfamiliar warmth of pride settled within him. In this at least, he had done well.

  His marriage to Miss Lambert was the honorable thing. If he let the Wyndhams take charge of St. George, all would suffer. He would not let that happen.

  A maid greeted him at the door and he followed her to the headmaster’s office. An older woman with dark hair and a severe black gown approached, smiling in greeting. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Twizzlerot.”

  “He’s not here today. I’m Miss Pritchard, his assistant. May I be of service?”

  “Yes.” He inclined his head politely. “I’m Haverwood.”

  “Oh, my lord!” she cried, her curtsy a picture of efficient movements. “How very nice to finally meet you. I suppose you’re here for your report. I told Mr. Twizzlerot that you would not appreciate dillydallying, but with the children coming from Ackworth and all, we’ve been somewhat shorthanded, and I’m afraid the details have suffered.”

  Colin smiled awkwardly as the woman’s sharp eyes studied his face. He wanted to escape, but he remained steadfast. “I understand perfectly. I was here to check up on the children, not to castigate Mr. Twizzlerot.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll not tarry, then. You’re a busy man, I’m sure.” Miss Pritchard walked briskly to the doorway and waited for him to follow. “Let me show you what your generosity has done for us.”

  What your generosity has done.He repeated the words in his head, savoring the import. For ten years he had struggled to find something to redeem him. Perhaps today he finally had.

  The rooms were clean and large. The dining area consisted of one long table that spanned from wall to wall, with chairs of varying sizes lined up neatly around it. The kitchen was hot and steaming, the cook preparing a meal that smelled quite appetizing.

  Finally they came upon the schoolrooms, where a young tutor was reading to the small class. Colin counted twelve heads, dark hair, light hair, happy, sad, large, and small, all momentarily enthralled by the young man’s every word.

  The murmuring began when a small girl noticed the visitors at the side of the room, eyeing Colin with wide eyes. Eventually the tutor sensed the distraction and turned to see what was causing the disturbance.

  In a matter of only moments, Miss Pritchard had the children lined up in a neat row, each taking their turn, bowing and curtseying, and reciting their names as if they were grateful to make his acquaintance. Colin stood a little taller and his smile grew broader.

  Inside him he wondered whether he would ever have children of his own. No, he would be the last of the dragons. Cady’s blood would die with him.

  A tall lad approached, blond and lanky, but he did not bow, instead he curled his fingers and slammed his fist into Colin’s stomach.

  Colin blinked with surprise at the unimposing blow, wondering if the boy had seen through him. But the cold green eyes of the lad did not hold fear, instead they shot sharp daggers of dislike.

  Miss Pritchard grabbed the young man by his ear and dragged him away before he could continue his assault.

  “Miss Pritchard,” Colin called, curious about the lad.

  She halted, the boy struggling to free himself from her unrelenting fingers. “Yes, my lord?”

  “May I speak to the boy alone?”

/>   The woman frowned, and he thought at first she would say no, but she nodded her head in acquiescence. “You may use the office.”

  The boy kept his head bowed as they walked the narrow corridor and when they got to the small room, Colin sat upon the headmaster’s desk and gestured for the lad to take the small chair. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re the earl,” the lad replied in a sullen voice.

  “Well, yes, but I was trying to ascertain if you punch everyone, or if you had some particular motive for choosing me to use as practice.”

  “You moved us.”

  “I see,” he said, not understanding at all. “You didn’t want to be moved?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s none of your business.” The lad looked up and glared with cold green eyes.

  “It wasn’t until you walloped me. Rather a healthy hook you have, although if you don’t curve your arm quite so much, you’ll find yourself doing much more damage.” He smiled weakly, but the boy remained unmoved. “So why didn’t you want to come here to St. George?”

  Silence.

  Colin thought for a moment, trying to imagine what Sarah would do if she were here. She handled these situations much better than he. “Is there some problem with your bedding?”

  “No.”

  “Is the food palatable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Miss Pritchard beat you senseless?”

  “Blimey. She couldn’t take me if I was wearing blinders.”

  Colin turned his face so the boy wouldn’t see his smile. “So you have no objection to your lodgings here,” he said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “I can only assume that your problem was in leaving Ackworth.”

  “Right canny-witted one you are.”

  The boy had a smart mouth, rather like someone else he had recently met. “What’s your name?”

  “Ethan.”

  Ah. Although he didn’t understand why he had earned a blow, he began to gain some glimmer of the true situation. “Have you ever been in love, Ethan?”